


delicate in every way but one.

by sakurapinks



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, HxHBB20, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, hints of soulmate themes, its a little divergent from canon, non-binary mlm kurapika (they/them) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26374960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurapinks/pseuds/sakurapinks
Summary: It’s a performance teetering on the edge of predation. Their careful dance, their push and pull that could almost seem choreographed to an outsider. Leorio hated to admit it, but they did have the sort of chemistry that can’t be taught. He knows Kurta sees it too, because their expression is cracked wide open— it’s written in the glint in those dark eyes that they’re more than excited for the next collision.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48
Collections: HXHBB20





	delicate in every way but one.

“What do you _mean_ Emperor Time is off limits?”

“It’s killing you, Kurta.”

“I told you, I don’t _care_!”

“You’re more valuable to the Jaeger Administration _alive_.” Netero’s eyes are hard. One look at him tells Kurapika that there’s absolutely no changing his mind.

They want to scream at the old man’s hypocrisy. Bring up the detonation switch to the Poor Man’s Rose buried deep within Netero’s own body— everyone with Hunter rank and above knew of the confidential nuclear warhead reserved for an end-of-times scenario.

It was frustrating to say the least. With the Mark-6 Jaeger, Emperor Time, they wouldn’t have to rely on a co-pilot— it’s drift tech allowed for the complete synchronization with its system using only a single pilot. Kurapika had finally thought they had a chance to fight again— and alone this time. They wouldn’t have to rely on faulty co-pilots, who seemed to drop out quicker than Kurapika could replace them.

The YorkNew branch of the Hunter Association began testing single-pilot, Mark-6 tech when they caught word of the Nigerian branch‘s successful test run. So far they only had one pilot capable of doing so without any recorded medical repercussions— someone named Alluka Zoldyck, piloting the Jaeger Nanika— and they forwarded all tech records to YorkNew’s engineers.

Piloting Emperor Time went well enough in the beginning. Kurapika took down two regular Kaiju within a week. Then the following week, they were called in to face a Spider-Classed Kaiju, codenamed UVO. UVO was a kaiju that had taken down two Jaegers previously, and no one at HQ was thrilled to have Kurapika’s newly built Jaeger face it. At Kurapika’s insistence, however, HQ allowed it— and it was taken down in record time.

The new tech was hailed a huge success by the Hunter Administration— that is, until Kurapika passed out in the middle of training. After being rushed into the medical ward, multiple tests concluded that Kurapika’s body took in huge amounts of radiation while controlling Emperor Time. Every hour connected to the Jaeger’s drift tech pumped in enough radiation to shave off almost six months worth of Kurapika’s lifespan. Kurapika didn’t have a problem with it. They signed up with the intention of dying while exterminating the Spiders, so what was a few years of their life in the true scheme of things?

But Netero, that goddamn old man, _had_ to start acting compassionate now, of all times. Where was this empathy when he agreed to let two sixteen year-olds drift in the Mark-4, Lighting Fighter? The man was so full of contradictions and they couldn’t stand it— it was infuriating.

Now they’d have to go hunt down a co-pilot for their Mark-5 Jaeger yet _again_.

Scarlet’s co-pilot seat had been the subject of great turmoil since their first co-pilot’s death— Pairo, Kurapika’s childhood friend and fellow survivor of the Spider-class Kaiju attack on Kurta island. No one was able to keep up with Kurapika’s volatile drift since Pairo’s death, and every contender for the position dropped so quickly it was almost comical. Each possible co-pilot chased too many of _Kurapika’s_ rabbits— the memories that danced tauntingly at the edges of their drift. Kurapika was used to blocking out the grisly mountain of corpses in their memory, but too many of their co-pilot candidates were not, and got distracted far too quickly.

Their last resort in the YorkNew compound was an ex-hunter who currently worked as a doctor. After skimming his file, Kurapika finds that they had a rather traumatic history— Paladiknight’s co-pilot of four years was apparently killed in his jaeger while still attached to drift tech. Prior to his enrollment, though, he was found half starving to death in a Jaeger part dump.

A pilot with trauma would be easier to drift with. Paladiknight would know not to chase memories too quickly, and he’d be less likely to, well, _break_ if he happened to see any of Kurapika’s memories. Previous co-pilots were either fresh out of Hunter training, or even if they were veterans, they hadn’t experienced nearly enough to stomach the horrors lurking dormant in Kurapika’s driftscape.

There’s also something about reading his profile that draws Kurapika in. Something about how the scarred, tired man still managed to smile into the camera with a warmth that somehow felt hopeful. Though Kurapika isn’t one to put their faith into mere slivers of hope anymore, they think they can trust someone who’s willing to try and change their mind.

Kurapika decides, with a determined finality, that they’d ambush this Leorio Paladiknight the next day. They could hardly wait to meet, in person, this battle-worn ex-hunter.

-

Leorio is pretty sure it’s his day off when his pager rings insistently— he can’t quite tell anymore. Time was fuzzy when his sleep schedule was chaotic and he barely saw the light of day in the Jaeger compound. Nonetheless, he stumbles out of bed and reaches blearily to see the code— if it was anything less than an emergency, he was going to pass it off to Cheadle— but it blares a blinking red, EMERGENCY: JAEGER PILOT DOWN stamped across the screen.

“God- _fucking_ -damnit!” Leorio all but yells and stumbles to find clothes. He realizes a moment too late that he was actually still in his scrubs from the night before, and had pulled on a second pair of pants above the one he already wore. Another string of curses leave his mouth as he fumbles for his keys, his phone, and then toes on a pair of worn down bright-yellow crocs.

As he runs out the door, he passes a mirror, and his reflection makes him wince openly— dark eyebags, two day old stubble, and very crumpled scrubs were not good looks on him. It’s not like he had the luxury to really change anything though, as his pager continues to vibrate against his leg and the passing seconds wasted send adrenaline shooting through his veins.

Awaiting him in Emergency Isolation Room 1A is a figure who looks _extremely_ uninjured. By that, he means a blond is sitting rather primly on the exam bed in an _unblemished_ white button up, and crisp black dress pants. Leorio has to double check the room number, but the bold letters just repeat to him what he’d already known— EIR: 1A it reads.

“Uh... what the hell?” Leorio pants, leaning tiredly against the doorframe. At this, the person turns to look at him, and their wide brown eyes seem to size him up for a moment. He feels slightly self conscious under that sharp gaze in all his unshaven, yellow croc’ed, sleep deprived glory. “I was told there was a pilot down in need of emergency assistance?” Leorio fights to keep his voice level as a wave of tiredness-mixed-anger washes over him.

There’s a pause, followed by another slow once-over. “You’re Dr. Paladiknight? Mark-5 pilot?” The not-patient asks sharply, rather than answer Leorio’s question. It sounds almost accusatory and Leorio prickles at that.

“ _Former_ mark-5 pilot, yes.” Leorio snaps, but at the mention of his previous occupation, all the anger drains out of his body. Most of the time he chooses pointedly not to think about his time in the cockpit. It dredges up old memories he would rather keep buried. He pinches the bridge of his nose, attempting to alleviate the tension headache beginning to build behind his eyes, and leans against the doorframe. “And you are?”

“Kurapika Kurta. Hunter.” Kurta says curtly, in a decidedly annoying, no-nonsense, all-business tone. “I need a co-pilot for a Mark-5, and you’re the last person left in this compound with adequate experience piloting it. Do a test Drift with me.” There’s no question in that sentence, no _please_ , just a flat demand.

Leorio bristles. “First of all, I’m an _ex_ -Hunter. I quit piloting.” Kurta looks extremely unimpressed, with an eyebrow raised in boredom. “Second, you think you can just waltz in here, paging me for an _emergency_ and demand a Drift test from me?”

A twitch of irritation moves the otherwise stone cold expression on Kurta’s face. “Yes,” They said with finality.

“You’re ridiculous. There’s a _reason_ I quit. Besides, people need me here!”

Kurta scoffs, rolling their eyes. “There are other doctors in the compound. You’re the only one left here who can pilot a Mark-5.”

“The answer is _no_. Now do you need me for an actual injury or can I go back to sleep?” Leorio turns to leave, ready to get a good three hours of sleep in before his next shift when Kurta, in a swift motion, grabs his wrist. Their grip is surprisingly strong, as rough callouses press into his skin insistently.

“If you haven’t noticed, _Dr._ Paladiknight,” They place extra emphasis on his title, nearly snarling out the word like it personally offends them, “The world is coming to an end.”

“And what about it—?” Leorio returns with equal bite. He was a doctor, good at keeping his temper with unruly patients, but this one proved to be something else entirely. His self control is good, but not good enough to keep himself from getting in Kurapika’s face, using his height to tower over the other.

Kurapika doesn’t flinch. Those angry dark-brown eyes seem to flicker red under the fluorescent lights. “Would you rather die here? Or in a Jaeger?”

Leorio’s jerks away at that, pulling back like he’d been burned. He’s quick to mask his surprise with a look of annoyance though. “That’s none of your goddamn business.” Leorio snaps, and slams the door behind him.

-

That night, Leorio finds himself in the training room, the spar simulation program turned up to max. He can’t keep Kurta’s words from his mind, and sitting alone in his room, trying desperately to fall asleep, didn’t help. Trading blow after blow with the training robot kept his mind clear, and that awful, nagging need to get back in a Jaeger at bay.

He remembers the rush of Jaeger combat clearly— the surge of pride that came after a takedown, the relieved faces of the civilians he protected. It was what he lived for. Protecting people was all he wanted to do with his life. He just wanted to keep families together, wanted to prevent what happened to _his_ family from ever happening again.

But he also remembers the excruciating pain that seemed to emanate from deep within his brain when Pietro was ripped from the cockpit. The freezing rush of water. The burn of his lungs. The gaping emptiness that his friend left.

He freezes in place, suddenly trapped in the memories that seem to flash too quickly behind his eyes. But, training bot swings mercilessly, and in his moment of distraction it lands a dizzying blow to his temple. It knocks him to the mat. In the distance, he hears the robot shut down as he tries desperately to shake the ringing pain from his head.

Leorio lays there for a few seconds, trapped in the emotions-images-pain rushing through his mind — or maybe it was minutes? He presses his hand to his swollen temple, and winces at its tenderness. That was definitely going to bruise.

“You’re out of practice.” A voice comes from behind, and Leorio fights back another groan at its familiarity. Head pounding, he drags himself up into a sitting position.

“Yeah well, that’s kinda what ex-Hunter means.” Leorio snaps back and turns a little too quickly, making his vision spin once more. A hand over his eyes, Leorio says again, quietly, “I told you already— I’m not piloting again.”

There’s an exasperated scoff, and footsteps approach, “I’m aware. I came down here to train,” A shift in the mat tells Leorio that Kurta sat down in front of him. Close. “Not to ask you again.” Then, there’s a soft pressure on his temple and Leorio flinches at the pain. As his eyes snap open, he’s met with Kurta’s face, inches away from his own.

“You’re bleeding.” Kurta has a towel pressed to his skin, a grimace painting their features. Leorio’s caught off guard by the glinting tease of a half-hidden gemstone dangling behind Kurta’s hair. He sucks in a breath. This close, Leorio couldn’t deny that they were beautiful— not in the way men with rugged features were handsome, or others with perfectly painted lips were charming. No, Kurta was beautiful in a silent way, radiating a controlled, powerful sort of grace.

There’s something in their figure, the way they hold themself without even a sliver of hesitation, that shoots adrenaline through his veins. Maybe he does want to be in the cockpit again. Maybe he wants to fight alongside this spitfire.

“Spar with me.” It leaves him faster than he can think twice, and Kurta visibly jolts. “If you win, I’ll drift with you.”

Brown eyes harden, a smile curling the ends of their lips. It’s predatory. “I don’t mind, but are you sure it’s a fair fight?” Kurapika rises to their feet, extending a hand out to Leorio. “You let yourself be beat by a training simulation, after all.”

Leorio scoffs, but it’s teasing. “Maybe you should tie a hand behind your back then, if you’re so confident.” He takes the hand extended to him, and the feeling of rough calluses sticks to his skin even after they separate. He’d thought Kurapika was just a pretentious brat at first, honestly, but the way their hands were battered... They must’ve worked their ass off.

“Of course I’m sure I can win,” Kurapika cracks their knuckles, beginning to circle around the mat and Leorio follows suit. “I just don’t want you to have even a sliver of a chance.” Their eyes glint with fire— it’s pure beauty, but in the same graceful, brutal way a lion stalks its prey.

Leorio opens his mouth to retort, offended, but in that moment Kurta lunges forward.

They’re terrifyingly agile, and closes the space between them in a flash. If Leorio was anyone else, maybe he would’ve moved away to avoid the hit, but he knew where _his_ strength lay. He braces, moving his arms by his face to block the kick Kurta aimed at his head, and sure enough takes the blow without backing down.

Leorio wasn’t fast or agile like Kurta, he knew, but he did have the confidence to overpower them with brute strength. A grin rips across Leorio’s face as Kurta, clearly surprised, jumps back to avoid his swing to their chest. “Is that all?” Leorio taunts, “I thought you weren’t going easy on me!” And lunges forward.

Kurta dodges blow after blow, unsurprisingly avoiding even the most brutal of Leorio’s punches, but there’s a certain calculation to the calmness in their eyes. They were planning on waiting it out until Leorio got tired, undoubtedly— so he retreats to the edge of the ring. Better to let Kurta be on the offensive.

“Tired already, old man?” Comes Kurta’s remark, but there’s sweat shining on that tanned neck, sticking the stray hairs by their ponytail to the skin just beneath. It’s unfairly attractive. Kurta’s careful footsteps begin inching around the ring once more, and Leorio follows.

It’s a performance teetering on the edge of predation. Their careful dance, their push and pull that could almost seem choreographed to an outsider. Leorio hated to admit it, but they did have the sort of chemistry that can’t be taught. He knows Kurta sees it too, because their expression is cracked wide open— it’s written in the glint in those dark eyes that they’re more than excited for the next collision.

“Just thought _you’d_ need a brea—“ Leorio scolds himself for falling for the same dirty trick twice, as Kurta’s in front of him in a breath. Instead of swinging up front though, they dive to roll through Leorio’s legs. It catches him off guard just long enough for Kurta to pop up behind him and land a solid, painful kick to his back. The breath is knocked out of him as he lurches forward, losing his footing.

Kurta’s on him in an instant, and uses their momentum to push Leorio face first into the mat. It hurt like a bitch, especially since Kurta has an arm wrapped around his neck in a firm chokehold, but Leorio isn’t about to let someone half his body weight pin him.

With as much strength as he can muster, Leorio rears his head back to headbutt Kurta square in their chin. A grunt of pain followed by the slipping grip around his neck is enough for Leorio to flip their positions, and he has Kurta pinned.

“My win,” Leorio pants, grinning in delight. His forearm is pressed against Kurta’s neck, and despite their flailing, Leorio doesn’t budge.

“I think I want to, though.” He blurts suddenly, and Kurta’s wide eyes meet his. There’s a sort of half-exasperation, half-relief that makes their gaze softer. “—To try again.”

“Good,” Kurta’s expression shifts to something more... sly, a grin tugging at a corner of their lips. Leorio is instantly on guard. “So you’ll agree to the test drift I scheduled for tomorrow then?”

“You did— you did _what_?”

-

The control room was silent and the tension was almost palpable. No one wanted to say it, not really, but they were all intensely worried. The staff had sat through all of Kurapika’s trials and subsequent failures before. They’d seen Kurapika’s desperation to get back into piloting grow, rage festering and eating away at them. What was once a pilot who knew how to laugh slowly became a shell— empty, cold, and above all, lonely.

Together, they watch the glowing blue numbers indicating their drift compatibility tick slowly upward among the swirling memories that blow past.

Kurapika’s heart rate picks up quickly, pulse thrumming in their ears in panic— the numbers continue to climb relentlessly. Their stomach did a strange jump at the sight, then a quiet coldness settled into their veins.

_They recalled a training class they led a while back. A new class of Jaeger pilot trainees had just shuffled into the martial arts room, and Kurapika had paired them off to practice ‘teamwork’ and ‘bonding’ and whatever else bullshit the headquarters required them to teach. They knew though, from experience, that no real work could be done without testing each pair’s drift compatibility. Kurapika led the exercise reluctantly because of that, not quite seeing the point if the pairs weren’t permanent._

_As they sparred, Kurapika walked around occasionally commenting on a misplaced foot, or a lazy dodge. Mostly though, they reminded the class repeatedly to read the movements of the other— to act as if they were already in the drift, fighting as one entity rather than two._

_“The point of the drift,” Kurapika had said, absentmindedly fiddling with a pair of bokken, “Is that you shouldn’t be able to tell where you end, and where they begin. You are one being inside of the Jaeger— so start sparring like it.”_

_A smart-mouthed student complained that it was impossible, that being so perfectly in sync would mean the pair was no less than soulmates. And Kurapika had agreed without a second thought._

_“Pairs who are compatible over fifty percent are exceedingly rare,” They had said bluntly, “And most of you will struggle to reach even forty. But those of you who go higher will be akin to soulmates, in a sense. You will be the ones to do the impossible.”_

As they watch the number blow past sixty, then seventy, then crawl to a stop at an astounding eighty-three percent, they hear the control room erupt into gaps. But all Kurapika can hear, hands gripped tightly into fists, is the ghost of Pairo’s voice echoing relentlessly within his mind.

(“Seventy-three percent, Pika!” Pairo’s phantom voice says, excitement at its edges, “We’re practically soulmates!” Kurapika agreed at the time, cheeks flushed with that hopeless teenage endearment. Maybe they were meant to be, they starkly remember thinking.)

But as they stare emptily at the flashing neon _eighty-three_ , they can’t help but wonder if what they and Pairo had was anything special at all. Being able to drift so perfectly with a complete stranger felt like an insult to Pairo’s memory— a betrayal, even.

“A perfect match—“ General Netero’s voice rasps through their earpiece, and Kurapika’s stomach just sinks further at the praise. They can tell Paladiknight is just as shocked, as his brows furrow and a scowl that seems like pure rage rips across his features.

No, they knew it truly was pure rage— the red-hot anger ripples across their Drift and sends a shiver down Kurapika’s spine. Paladiknight was _pissed_ , but at what, Kurapika didn’t know. They assumed that it would be at themself, after all, they’d pretty much forced Paladiknight to get involved. But hadn’t he decided to Drift even before told him about the Drift simulation?

Kurapika doesn’t have much time to think, though, as a deafening siren shakes the floor. The whole room freezes simultaneously. They knew what red lights and that wailing C-sharp siren meant: a Kaiju sighting nearby.

There’s a pause. A collective inhale.

Then, the control room erupts into chaos. There’s a scramble to monitors, and red faced officers trip over themselves to get to their stations.

“Let us go!” Kurapika demands without a moment’s pause, adrenaline shooting through their veins at the chance. There’s a spike in Paladiknight’s heartbeat at that, the monitor to the side peaking, and they feel through their Drift that he agrees. A second roar of chaos erupts from the control room at their suggestion, mostly objections, but Kurapika is ready for it.

“When was the last time you saw such a high compatibility?” They press, hissing through their teeth despite the burning pain that settles in their gut, “Even Hunters Becket and Mori only had a seventy-five percent!” Invoking the crew of Gipsy Danger sends a wave of apprehension skittering across the expressions of each officer— Kurapika was right, undoubtedly. Who knew what an eighty-three could do?

“Twenty miles and closing, sir!” Someone screams, and Kurapika watches with delight as General Netero rubs his forehead. Everyone knew that by now, getting a new Hunter pair drifted and ready for drop would take too long.

“Prepare to Drop Jaeger Scarlet Eyes!” Netero commands, and the rush for preparations begins full force.

There’s a familiar click-whoosh-squeal of Scarlet shifting into drop position, their suit tightening to secure them into the harness. It’s comforting, the sense of control that rushes through their veins in time with the groaning engine.

“Are you ever going to let me decide anything?” Paladiknight mutters beside them, but his lips are quirked into something similar to a smile. Kurapika can feel the excitement across the Drift, as with each passing second, Paladiknight fills their connection with a restless, impatient energy.

“That depends,” Kurapika looks ahead unflinching, avoiding that gaze of immovable determination they’d seen on the dojo floor. Like if they looked, the fragile relationship the two built overnight would shatter in an instant. Like they already felt that terrible, foreboding tug in their chest.

“As long as they aren’t idiotic, I won’t argue.” An exasperated groan bubbles up from Paladiknight, but Kurapika can’t keep an eager smile off their face. Even as the drop hatch opens its gaping maw to a crashing, rumbling ocean, the excitement in their blood refuses to calm.

“Drop in three!” A voice comes through Kurapika’s earpiece, but it’s fuzzy, distant, lost in the swirl of emotion that’s not solely their own, “Two... One!”

Scarlet breaches the ocean’s raging surface with a deafening crash, a battle cry— a declaration of war.

-

Leorio looks up, and he’s in a field of flowers. He can’t quite remember how he got there— wasn’t he in a Jaeger? Wasn’t he piloting?

But the swaying flowers are bright yellow like the sun, and quivering in the wind to a melody only they can hear. A butterfly swoops in from his periphery, circling, before landing delicately on a golden petal.

Laughter filters in. A cluster of children dash across the field, giggling, shouting in a language he can’t quite understand. It’s familiar, somehow, the wind chime laughter and the melodic tongue.

He feels clumsy in his suit, all of a sudden, and moves to flex his fingers but finds his palms bare. He looks down, and flats adorn his feet, as a curtain of crimson fabric lined with golden thread hangs low across his shins.

Then, like getting hit square in the chest, he notices the smell of death. The yellow petals drip dark red under his feet.

Leorio turns.

The meadow is ripped up from its foundations now, all overturned trees and exposed bedrock— a gaping chasm made from a field. He barely recognizes the flowers, crumpled and wilted, pinned under rubble the size of houses.

No, his breath catches in his throat, those are houses.

A familiar figure crumples to the ground, golden hair a broken halo, stained with blood. Before them lay a pile twice their height; limbs stuck out at odd angles, a pool of congealed crimson at its foundation. He stares until he feels his heartbeat in his ears and the rush of blood in his veins is too much to bear. An empty face stares back, eye sockets black, black, black—

As Kurapika lets out a wail, the ground shivers under the weight of their grief, and blue tinges the edges of Leorio’s vision. It blurs to nothing before he can think twice.

-

Kurapika opens their eyes and sees chaos. They’re inside of a Jaeger, undoubtedly, but it’s not the worn, familiar interior of Scarlet’s cockpit.

It’s a mark-5 but... the screens blare bright red, sirens wailing so loudly it leaves their ears ringing and plants a headache deep between their brows. Freezing water licks at their chest, lungs filled to bursting with the suffocating smell of gasoline and burning, scorching flesh. They realize with a jolt that they can’t feel their legs, and a scream rips from their throat before they can stop it.

“Pietro!” They hear themself howl, but it doesn’t sound like their voice. It’s deeper, rougher, vaguely familiar in the way it rips against the edges of their throat in a desperate plea. They turn, not quite with their own will, to face their co-pilot— but the figure next to them just hangs limply, like a puppet without its strings. The sight sends a wave of panic through their veins, icy cold terror that makes their limbs go stiff and heart kick into overdrive.

The thoughts are scattered as the entire jaeger rocks violently, and they feel their head snap forward then crash roughly against the headrest. Their head spins with the impact, but a single thought is overwhelming, though clouded with dread— kaiju!

“Pietro! Wake up, damnit!” Their voice shakes with effort as they struggle to lift their freezing hands to the control positions. They can’t grasp the levers properly, hands dumbed with cold, and the rapidly rising water level does little to help. Someone’s screaming, heart wrenching with urgency and desperation— and they realize, dread sinking into their stomach, that it’s their own.

Another violent shake rocks the jaeger, their vision going black around the edges, and it sends them completely underwater. They don’t have the energy, nor the air, to continue screaming.

An eye, black as night and glowing like every person’s nightmare, fills the window panel in front of them. They feel only numb, ice cold dread before letting the waves of powder-blue unconsciousness overtake them.

-

Kurapika awakes in a blindingly white hospital room, head pounding relentlessly. They regret opening their eyes even for a moment as the fluorescent lights only serve to make the pulsating pain behind their eyes worse. Kurapika raises their hand to massage their temples, hoping to alleviate the building pressure, but finds their arm wrapped in a rather thick layer of bandages. It looks new— there’s no blood or frayed edges, just crisp white fabric.

How did they get here? There’s a fuzzy memory that sits at the back of their mind of smoke and freezing cold water... Kurapika shakes their head as the headache just gets worse with their prodding.

They had been in Scarlet. Paladiknight as their co-pilot.

The pair had fought a Kaiju face-to-face and were winning— the controls were so smooth, Scarlet’s limbs never showed even a hint of resistance. They’d exchanged blows with the Kaiju relentlessly but Scarlet barely budged. They felt invincible, like nothing could ever stop them— and then?

Oh. Then their left arm stopped responding.

The memory washes over them in a sickening tidal wave, and anger rises simultaneously. Paladiknight had chased a goddamn rabbit. They remember looking over in panic at his limp form, his eyes glazed over and reflecting a hazy blue. Kurapika screamed at him to wake up, but their voice wasn’t nearly enough, and the next thing they knew a claw pierced Scarlet’s hull. Freezing water stinking of gasoline and Kaiju Blue overwhelmed them— then nothing.

How did they get here then?

Kurapika jolts upright, head reeling, but a small hand stops them before they can jump to their feet. It’s Gon, wide eyes teary and lip trembling. It melts the blinding anger right out of them.

“Kurapika!” Gon cries as he surges into their arms. They wince at the impact, some wounds still fresh, but wrap their arms around the boy despite it. “I thought you— you wouldn’t make it!” His waterfall of tears soak right through their flimsy shirt, but Gon doesn’t seem to notice, just pressing his face further into Kurapika’s chest with every heartbreaking sob. “We had to go in and save you...” He trails off, and Kurapika hurts.

Gon Freeccs and his co-pilot Killua were the youngest pilots at YorkNew, both only sixteen years old. They’d fought Netero tooth and nail to make them wait a few more years, knowing more than anyone how traumatizing being thrown into war at a young age was, but the old bastard let the pair pilot anyway. Now, Kurapika’s almost sure that their recklessness scarred Gon badly. Especially if he had to pull Kurapika’s body from Scarlet’s wreckage.

“I’m sorry Gon,” Kurapika takes their unbandaged hand and pats his head, hopefully in a comforting way. Gon just sniffles into their chest again, little body shaking.

“I don’t think it’s only Gon you should be apologizing to.” Kurapika jumps. Quiet as ever, Killua steps forward from behind a curtain. His expression fights to stay stony, but they can see the relief coloring his features. They’re sure there’s a slight wetness to his eyes, but Killua looks away before Kurapika can ask.

“I’m sorry I worried you too Killu—“ Kurapika starts, but the boy just shakes his head in frustration.

“You don’t get it— to Leorio.” Killua says, eyebrows knit together in worry. They don’t think they’ve ever seen Killua look like this before, his expression so open and genuinely concerned. He struggles to speak for a while, so Gon takes over.

Gon pulls back to look up at Kurapika, his eyes betraying as much worry as his partner. “You said some mean things to him before— before you passed out.” Killua nods in agreement.

It takes a moment, but the memory resurfaces and their stomach sinks. Right after they were extracted. They were both conscious.

_“What the fuck was that?” Kurapika had screamed, flailing against the arms of medics who struggled to restrain them to a gurney. “You could’ve killed us!”_

_Judging by the number of medics by Paladiknight, he was significantly less injured. He looked away then, avoiding Kurapika’s anger— and it just made their fury build further. The sedatives injected into their arm courses through their veins, then, and grogginess overtakes them. But not before they could get in a final, scathing jab._

_“If I die here it’s your fault,” Their eyelids grew heavy, “My death is on your fuck up. Like— Like Pietro’s...”_

“What you said really fucked with him.” Killua murmurs, pain in his eyes like he knew exactly what Leorio was going through, “He barely left your side since you got here. Didn’t sleep until we forced him to.”

Regret weighs heavily on their chest, but they say anyway, as coldly as they can muster, “It was his fault. He chased the rabbit—“

“You don’t get it, do you?” Killua explodes then, and Gon is at his side immediately, trying to soothe him. “He fucking knows that, dumbass! Do you know how it feels? To have someone you care about almost die because— because of your own cowardice?” He shakes, bright blue eyes watery while holding tightly to Gon’s hand. “You said too much! He— He knows it’s his fault... damnit.” Killua scrubs at his eyes viciously, trying in vain to blink away tears.

Not once did Kurapika think that they’d be lectured by someone so much younger than them, but they knew Killua was right. They’d fucked up and hurt Leorio more than any Kaiju could.

“Thank you two,” Kurapika smiles, and Gon protests as they stagger to their feet. They’re out the door before either of them could say anything else.

-

When Kurapika finds themself in front of Leorio’s dorm, head completely empty, they blame it on the aftercurrents of the drift. Maybe their brain was still trying to reach out to the other half it merged with, not yet understanding that it was already whole by itself. They didn’t want to think about any other reason, didn’t want to confront the feelings that tugged at the back of their mind and begged for acknowledgment.

They’re considering turning away, but Killua’s tear stained face forces it’s way to the forefront of their mind and Kurapika takes a deep breath to steel themself. As they raise their hand to knock though, they’re surprised to see that the door swings wide open. Leorio stands on the other side, wide eyed and conflicted.

The flickers of relief are quickly overtaken by a forced frown though, as Leorio turns on his heel to surge back into his room. Panic rises in Kurapika’s chest, and at the last moment, they shove their boot between the door and it’s frame. It hurts like a bitch— that was the side that got bruised pretty badly in the Jaeger.

“Shit—! We need to talk!” They ignore Leorio’s yelp of surprise and force the door open with their uninjured arm. Kurapika must look beyond desperate, because their partner relents immediately.

“...We do.” Leorio agrees reluctantly, purposefully avoiding their eyes, and lets them limp inside. There’s a moment where they think Leorio might offer an arm— he reaches toward Kurapika when they wince— but he seems to think better of it, retracting his hand before he can so much as brush their arm. It sends a pang of regret coursing through them. Instead, Leorio motions toward his bed, unmade and messy but nonetheless more comfortable than the foundation-issued desk chair. He takes a seat next to them leaving a careful, deliberate space between their bodies.

There’s a beat of awkward, suffocating silence before they turn to each other, in almost perfect unison. “I’m sorry—“ Leorio and Kurapika blurt simultaneously, and the shock written on their faces is almost comical.

Leorio’s lips press into a line as he takes in a breath. “I almost killed you with my mistake. It was my bad.” He murmurs, and the conflict flickering across his expression makes Kurapika’s chest ache.

“It was just as much mine,” They return quietly, “I shouldn’t have urged the General to let us Drop like that. It was too sudden.”

Leorio surges forward, hurt in his eyes as he takes Kurapika’s hand. He freezes though, and retracts his touch immediately. They miss the warmth as soon as it’s gone. “You... I agreed with your call. You knew that.”

“Still it... Wasn’t right for me to blame you entirely. I said too much— about your previous co-pilot as well.”

“I knew you didn’t mean that,” A little smile breaks Leorio’s features, “But I appreciate it... Your apology.” There’s a sincerity to Leorio’s voice then that shatters a carefully guarded corner of Kurapika’s heart. A sheltered, locked box they had pushed away since the day Pairo died and left gaping chasm in his wake.

“I want to Drift with you again, if you’d have me.” Kurapika blurts, and the surprise that lights up Leorio’s expression is so endearing it hurts. “We’re compatible in there, I know you felt it too—” There’s an unspoken half to the sentence they’re scared to even think about, but something about the way Leorio reaches forward, sure this time, to lace their fingers together tells them that he understands.

“I thought that was the plan anyway, dumbass.” Leorio laughs, and instinctively, lets their fingers tighten around his. Calloused but warm. Rough in just the right way.

“Wow I really want to kiss you.” Leorio says suddenly, and then turns bright pink. Foot-in-mouth syndrome was a disease Kurapika thinks they can be thankful for. “I, uh, didn’t mean to say that! Forget what I said—“

Kurapika doesn’t forget; instead they fist a handful of Leorio’s shirt to pull him forward and press their lips together in a crushing kiss. Leorio’s lips are chapped and he tastes like cherry cough drops, but they don’t think they’d rather have it any other way. When Leorio moves to kiss warmth onto their neck and sigh a smile onto their skin, a comforting kind of happiness spreads through their chest. Each touch comes unsettlingly easily, like falling into a preexisting rhythm.

Laying there in the small military bunker, they’re forced to think that maybe— maybe they’d just spent their entire life offbeat, looking for something that came as naturally as this.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for the [hxh big bang 2020](https://hxhbb20.tumblr.com)!
> 
> check out my wonderful artists who made companion pieces: [pimientosdulces](https://pimientosdulces.tumblr.com/post/629016416590479360/my-piece-for-the-hxhbb20-for-hxhomos) and [faerlie](https://faerlie.tumblr.com/post/629012440880906240/my-piece-for-hxhbb20-this-is-for-hxhomos) !
> 
> thanks so much for everyones participation, I had a lot of fun. and a big thanks to the mods for organizing this!!
> 
> if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a comment 🥺 it keeps me going 
> 
> [ check out my carrd for my socials!](https://hybridflower.carrd.co/)


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